Bottom of a Glass
by Saphyr88
Summary: Post Season 4 Finale on Sanctuary, so SPOILERS! One-shot/drabble. Magnus attempts to cope with recent losses, with a little help from an old friend. Takes some inspiration from the deleted scenes - yay for winequilla!


**Author's Note**: Complete drabble. Spoilers for Season 4 finale and using some of the deleted scenes for that episode. Set afterwards as Helen attempts to cope with their most recent loss. Still can't get over the way they finished the programme! =( Why no Season 5 guys?! Why?!

DISCLAIMER: Not mine, theirs, love them to bits, not making any money, please don't sue. 3

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"Hmm, Pinot Noir, and I didn't even open it." Tesla remarked wryly, picking up the neck of the bottle and inspecting how much was left, one eye never quite allowing Magnus out of his sight.

She was huddled on her new, unfamiliar, sofa, wrapped in an old, familiar blanket, with a glass pressed to her lips as though it were slowly killing her memories drop by drop. It was a drowned look, shell-shocked… like she was in those days after the Carpathia had finally steamed into port bearing her, and the remaining survivors of the Titanic. He sat himself next to her, right next to her; an action which would normally earn him an ironic look at least, if not a scowl or admonishment, this time, there was nothing.

"Don't suppose you have another glass?"

She was about to bite out a retort, something along the lines of get it yourself you lazy ass, but the gentleness of his manner disarmed her. The way he looked at her, knowing precisely what was wrong without saying a word. He wasn't glibly demanding his share of the priceless wine, he was offering to share her sorrows, and he wasn't expecting an answer from her either.

"You're not planning on making winequila out of it?" she managed, taking another sip.

"Why, are you trying to get drunk alone?"

"Oh," she shuddered, "I don't know," biting her lip and staring at the glass in her hand, "sounds like a pretty good option right now."

He surprised her again, an arm finding its way around her shoulder, a loose hold, but contact nonetheless. "You'll regret the hangover in the morning. Besides, being alone isn't something you have to be right now."

She exhaled sadly, looking him plainly in the eye, "Maybe it's what I _want_, Nikola."

His response wasn't immediate, for a moment he simply stared, daring her to break eye-contact first. "You never let anyone near you when James died," he began quietly; "with Ashley… it was even worse. At least let me help you mourn the walking-" he bit his lip, and Magnus stared at him, warningly. "Sorry… it's just…" he sighed, looking away to stare intently at his feet, "habit."

Typical Tesla… at least he'd realised his insensitivity this time. Magnus glared, but she knew back in the more rational part of her brain that he'd apologised surprisingly quickly, and had the decency to look sheepish about the faux pas. He was just trying to cheer her up and let his glibness run off without him, cockiness as usual – his constant foil – what was new? Except now… now, all she could think about was the Big Guy, his scraggy hair, and occasional grunts. The way he'd helped her, through thick and thin, like family… changing nappies, feeding nubbins, loving Henry and Ashley like his own. That Summer when they'd all gone camping, and he'd come out of the lake looking like an exasperated drowned rug.

"He did kind of look like one," she tried not to cry even as the tears overwhelmed her and chocked out her words, "didn't he?"

Nikola's arm pulled her closer, his lips pressing comfortingly against the crown of her head as she struggled against the feeling of vulnerability and eventually gave in, pouring her heart out like she usually only allowed herself behind the safety of closed doors. She might talk everything out with Will; she might articulate it all against his sounding board, but cry? Allow herself that weakness? No. There had only been a handful of times she had leant on another's shoulder for that purpose, and to her memory, Tesla's had never once been top of the list. All those times either he'd been afraid, or she hadn't trusted him, and now, finally, she could let him in. It was better than whatever lay at the bottom of a glass.


End file.
